Sociopath's Cry
by ChocolateNobody
Summary: Right after The Great Game, Sherlock finds John badly hurt. He realises how much he means to him. He realises that sometimes even sociopaths can cry.


**My first attempt on writting a fanfick so please, don't be too harsh! Also, any comments or reviews would be more than welcomed. **

**English is not my native language so if you find any mistakes, feel free to mentioned it as well! **

**Enjoy (:**

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><p>Everything happened so fast.<p>

In brief seconds Sherlock was pulled into the water by strong, firm hands of his friend. The sounds of walls crushing down were suddenly less louder deep under the surface. He opened his eyes trying to focus on the person right next to him, who hold him so tight. It was hard to admit but he was glad to see John's blue eyes looking at him with concern, checking if he was allright.

Staying underwater felt like forever, though he knew only few seconds have passed. Soon Sherlock felt his lungs were on fire, because of the _obvious_ need of air, but he knew it was still too soon to get out. The smoke would be too thick to breath anyway. The dizzines he felt made it hard to stay counsious so he focused on the blue eyes next to him once more, letting the rest of the world fall into the darkness.

Even in this circumstances Sherlock couldn't help but to grin, satisfied with the result of their encounter with Moriarty. Another dangerous adventure they managed to survive in one piece. He was more than certain Jim was still alive. There was still time to catch him. All time in the world.

A red cloud of blood appeared in front of his eyes. Sherlock blinked a few times, clearly suprised. Why didn't he notice it before ? And who was bleeding ? He didn't feel as he was that hurt, and John was just...

_John ?_

John's grip started to be somewhat weaker. His eyes weren't focused on Sherlock anymore. They looked like covered by fog, not seing anything at all. Now they both were surrounded by red clouds which were growing bigger and bigger unexpectedly fast.

_This cannot be happening_, he thought, squizing John's arm hard, as to wake him up, say this is all a big joke, as to make it s t o p.

Now, _for no reasonable reason,_ everything was happening very slowly. Like the world was making fun of him, wanting him to suffer longer. Sherlock hold John tight, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him to the surface. When they _finally_ reached it, gasping for air in frantic, shallow breathes, Sherlock swam to the side of the pool, pulling John out of the water. Suddely he felt so tired, his body heavy as he tried to get out himself. His vision was blurry which only made him more irritated.

_John, John, John._

He tried to stay focused so hard but his body didn't listen to him at all. _It was all his fault._ Sherlock felt the anger growing inside of him. He is not going to pity himself right now, when John is bleeding to death right in front of him.

_Bleeding to death._

He chocked when he realised what he was thinking. _No no no, John will definitely not die, no._ John was the only one he cared about and the only one that cared about him. How on earth did he let this happen ?

Letting out a short, helpless groan Sherlock got out of the water.

- John ? John, can you hear me ? - he asked, shaking his now suddenly small and fragile body, possibly a little too hard. He knew John didn't lose his counsciousness and soon he opened his eyes, searching for Sherlock's face. John just nodded, finding it hard to speak.

- It's going to be fine - the words felt strange in his mouth. He never said anything before knowing all the facts, the details. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that those words were meaningless. Still saying it aloud gave him the comfort that now nothing bad could happen. Sherlock Holmes is always right. That's why those words had to be true.

John chuckled quietly in response.  
>- I know - he said, wincing in pain. - It's all fine in the end.<br>He gave Sherlock a faint smile, like he was trying to reassure him there is nothing to be worried about.

Sherlock laughed at his words, which came out more like a painful cry. Even now, all John was thinking about was Sherlock. How could he be so blind to not see that before ? How could he not realise sooner that all John really cared about was him ? John closed his eyes, feeling very old and tired. All he wished for was a few hours of sleep. Just a few. When he was peacefully drifting off to sleep he felt two strong hands grabbing him firmly, pulling him back to counsciousness.

- Don't fall asleep, John. I'm sure Lestrade and Mycroft are on their way. Stay awake just a little longer, ok ? - Sherlock hugged him closer, laying John's head on his knees, trying to keep him warm. John nodded, trying very hard to stay awake. He focused on Sherlock's troubled and worried face. Worried ? Really ? He has never seen him worried before. Was it becasue Moriarty got away ?

- Don't worry. - John tried to comfort him. - You're... going to catch him.

First, he met with a look of total suprise on Sherlock's face. As if he didn't know what John was talking about. Then Sherlock frowned and shook his head, which was an usual reaction to a great amount of John's deductions.  
>- I don't care about him right now! - he shouted in disgust. - I'm sure WE are going to catch him, though. I'm going to kill him for what he did to you. - Sherlock was suprised how angry his words sounded, how furious he actually felt at the moment. How awfully scared he was...<p>

A few moments later he heard the sirens. Sighing with relief he looked at John, just to realise his eyes were closed.

- John? John! - He didn't response. He didn't _bloody_ response, his eyes still closed. Suddenly Sherlock felt so small, so terrified. As long as John was awake, talking to him, he felt like he had everything under control. Now everything was falling apart and there was nothing he could do about it.

He let out a helpless cry. Holding John close he screamed for help, for anybody to just come here and help. A moment later he heard people shouting, running his way. Lestrade and Donnovan approached them, thinking they've never heard anyone scream so painfully, so dreadfully. Especially not Sherlock. Paramedics tried to take John away but he just hold him tigther. He needed a moment to realise what was going on and then, slowly, he let go of John so he could be taken to the ambulance. He felt somebody was kneeling right next to him, grabbing him by the sholder, speaking.

- Sherlock, what happened here ? - Lestrade's voice was steady and strong, it helped Sherlock focus once more. His whole body was shaking, water dripping from his hair.  
>- Where is John ?<br>- They will take care of him, Sherlock.  
>- There was nothing I could do. Nothing. - He said, more to himself than to Lestrade. He wished he could feel numb. He wished he could put aside all emotions that were now crushing him from the inside. He was so good at not- feeling, why it was so hard this time ?<br>Lestrade looked at him, concerned. He never saw Sherlock behaving like this.  
>- I'm sure you did everything you could.<br>- No! No, you don't understand! - Sherlock grabbed Lestrade by his shirt, raising his voice. - I did nothing. He was the one that saved me and now he is dying! - His breathing became shallow, frantic.

Still he felt like he had to say those words, becasue they just didn't understand. They didn't understand that John was the only one that mattered. Sherlock hated himself. For putting him through all of this, for letting Moriarty take John hostage, for believing, for this one brief moment, that John betrayed him. When he saw him at the swimming pool, his first thought was _'He betrayed me. He betrayed me just like everyone else._'. How could he accuse him of such thing? John sacrificed himself for him! John... John made him feel things he had never felt before.  
>Sherlock felt disgusted with himself.<p>

- Inspector Lestrade - someone stood close to Sherlock, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to check who it was. - As you might have alredy noticed Sherlock is in no condition to give you a reprot so, if you excuse me, I'm going to take care of him from now on.  
>Lestrade simply nodded, said a few more words that Sherlock didn't quite catch and walked away. A moment later he felt someone pulling him up. He looked up to find his brother looking at him in concern.<p>

- I'm sorry I wasn't here on time to... prevent things from happening. - Mycroft said, feeling guilty and angry at himself. Sherlock just stared at him, too tired to say a sarcastic comment about his brother's behaviour. Too tired to do anything, too tired to think.

- Sherlock - Mycroft squeezed his arm, forcing his brother to look him in the eye. - You know that sometimes it is ok even for a sociopath to cry.  
>As if those words were a magical spell, Sherlock layed his forhead on Mycroft's shoulder and bursted in tears. He hated how he felt right now but, at the same time, he knew he deserved it. The pain was overwhelming. It clouded his mind, poisoned his heart he was so certain he didn't have not so long ago.<p>

- I was so blind - he managed to say in a hoarse voice.  
>- I know. - Mycroft said as calmy as he could at the moment. - How about we go to the hospital now ? Check how's John?<br>At John's name being mentioned, Sherlock nodded as if he was saying 'let's not waste time' and followed Mycroft to the car. He felt so heavy, knowing what's ahead of him. Still, he knew John wouln't die. He wouldn't leave him alone. Not now, especially not now, when he had so many things he wanted John to know.

Driving to the hospital he thought about the things he had to tell him. He realised he could put all of his thoughts into one, simple sentence - _I cannot live without you._ He didn't have to say anything else. John would understand. As he always did.


End file.
